Saturday, 19 February 2011
Chit my pretties, chit!
A lightening quick trip to the allotment last weekend... just to check it was still there and I hadn't dreamt the whole thing. (It was... I hadn't.)
Opened the lock-up door and it threw up all over me - an avalanche of rakes (two - why?), forks (two - one bent out shape when it lost a fight with a blackberry root), spades (three - both caked in mud) plus sundry detritus including a screwed up knot of fleece, a broken dibber, fold out chairs, plant pots, ... a real trash heap. If the trash heap had spoken it would have said 'clean me' but it's never seen Fraggle Rock and I didn't have the time.
I have visions of arriving at the allotment and seeing the contents of the lock-up thrown across the entire site having been targeted by vandals. Strangely, if this scenario came to pass my first reaction would be embarrassment, not anger. Like seeing the contents of your rubbish bag, from ready meal packets to toilet rolls, drifting down the street after it's been attacked by a fox.
Anyway, the exciting part of the allotment is currently going on indoors because the potatoes are chitting like the clappers.
You need a cold, spare bedroom for this apparently, which is great, because that's exactly what we have - thanks largely to one of the only two storage heaters in the flat having packed up (for sunnier climes possibly). This mean with just one storage heater occasionally farting the odd gust of heat even the occupied bedroom is cold... so the potatoes could have taken their pick really.
I'm growing Mayan Gold, Kestrel, Swift, Maris Piper and Arran Pilot... seeing as you asked. But they're not enough. I want to make this so I'll need Vitelotte... Mr Little's Yelthom Gypsy has too good a name not to grow and Marabel as mash comes highly recommended by a friend... when did life get so complicated? A potato's a potato, right?